


Like Dumbo's Feather

by earis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-12
Updated: 2010-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-10 02:22:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earis/pseuds/earis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean tries to ensure Sam's success when facing Lucifer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Dumbo's Feather

"This is mine," he said.

Sam looked at Dean's hand, which grasped the hem of his hoodie. His breath smelled like Sam's. Boozy.

"The hoodie is yours?"

Dean let go. "No, you are." He turned away, like what he had said wasn't a lie, a last-ditch, drunk effort.

"What?"

"I forgot to tell you, you got a problem with it?" Dean challenged.

"Yes," Sam stated. "I'm mine." He poked himself for emphasis.

Dean threw something at Sam. "Remember this, genius?"

Dean saw the memory bloom all over his brother's face when Sam caught it. It was Dean's first journal, which they had swiped from a K-mart in Pierre when he was 13, palms sweating, hearts pounding. And later that summer, they had opened one of Bobby's forbidden books for the first time, and Dean had thought, _Couldn't hurt_.

"You can't be serious."

"As herpes, Sammy."

"There's no such thing as soul bonding, jerk."

_Of course not, but you're the believer_, Dean thought. He smiled, "Then I get a Nobel Prize because I invented it. We'll need to get on that. Amsterdam probably won't survive the Apocalypse."

"I think you mean Stockholm." Sam was beyond engaging Dean about fate, at least for tonight. He squinted in the dark at the offending words, scrawled in red and blue, and picked at one of the rusty brown flecks that dotted the journal. Dean remembered the smell of iron, the slip of the penknife in his hand, the sweet herbs making his eyes weepy, the stick of their bare legs against the leather seats. The way Sam rubbed at his eyes briefly, he knew that Sam remembered too.

"There's no way this is real," Sam said. "Is it?"

He put his hand back on Sam. "I shared."

"What?" Sam looked up, and there it was, in his dark eyes and open mouth. His stupid faith in his stupid, older, lying brother. Dean crossed his fingers and hoped that it would be like Dumbo's feather. Fake, but enough to beat the devil.

"I shared, but now, I come first." Dean paused. "Only for a few more days, but 'til then, I come first."

"Prove it," Sam said, voice aching, and stepped into Dean's arms. And Dean could prove the lie, because there it was, in their blood, palms sweating, hearts pounding _mine, mine, mine,_ when he closed that unnatural gap between them.

It takes Dean years after Sam's leap of faith and fall to hell to realize he's wrong. He buries Bobby, and Rufus tells him he hasn't changed a bit. He buries Rufus and he buries Lisa and he buries Ben, who dies of a heart attack in his sixties. And Dean still looks, well, not young, but not old.

He turns away from Ben's grave.

A hand touches his shoulder.

"This is mine," Sam says.

Dean looks up.

"That was a lie," he pleads.

Sam smiles like a glinting ray of light. "You may have lied. Doesn't mean it's not real."

**Author's Note:**

> For the SoulBond OMG! Challenge. Betaed by Kristie.


End file.
